


A Year in the Life

by denorios



Category: Magnificent Seven (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-09
Updated: 2010-08-09
Packaged: 2017-10-11 00:33:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/106274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/denorios/pseuds/denorios
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's awkward and messy and complicated, and Chris wouldn't have it any other way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Year in the Life

**Author's Note:**

> A thousand million thanks for my ever-awesome beta, farad.

It's awkward and messy and complicated, and Chris wouldn't have it any other way.

***

Chris is drunk and angry and he slams his fist into the wall over and over until the wood splinters and his knuckles are torn and bloody. Vin watches him silently, impassively, waiting until Chris has exhausted himself and dropped to a crumpled heap on the floor before rising to inspect the damage to the wall.

"You're gonna need to cut some new boards," he says softly, and at his feet Chris pants for breath, chest heaving in hiccupping sobs, fists clenching and unclenching rhythmically.

"What am I gonna do with you, cowboy?" Vin asks, and he kneels beside Chris, running a gentle hand over his hair. When he lifts his head Chris' face is red and wet with exertion, and the despair in his eyes makes Vin's mouth twist in sympathy.

"Don't go," Chris whispers.

Vin sighs. He takes first one hand and then the other, brushing his thumb tenderly across Chris' bloody knuckles.

"I won't."

***

Chris recognizes the moment instantly: his future hangs poised on his next words and he can barely breathe from the intoxication of the choice.

Vin stands naked in the doorway, backlit and beautiful, skin burnished red and gold by the rising sun, head turned towards Chris, waiting.

He could smile and shrug, Chris knows, call it an itch that needed scratching, and Vin will nod and dress, and they'll ride back to town and trust that the awkwardness will ease with time. Or maybe he'll apologize and Vin will grin, and perhaps it'll happen again next time he's lonely and hurting, and it'll be something else they never speak of, like Eli Joe and Ella and the rest of Chris' mistakes.

He could do either of those things and he knows he'll never hear a word of reproach from Vin, and the next time there's a fight or an ambush he'll only have to turn his head and Vin will still be there.

"Come back to bed," he says instead, and Vin settles beneath him, kissing the soft skin behind Chris' ear, and Chris' fingers find Vin's beneath the blankets and hold on.

***

They don't live together. Chris has his cabin out of town, and Vin sleeps in his wagon or his room in the boarding house or when the heat is too much sometimes even in the stables with Peso. He doesn't announce it, doesn't have a routine or pattern, and it's a rare day when Buck or Josiah find him on the first try, if at all.

It's safer, Vin explains, a man with a price on his head doesn't want to be easily found, and if it's not entirely the truth no one questions the logic.

So the days when he isn't anywhere to be found go unnoticed, when he's curled up with Chris in his small bed, listening to the summer rain on the cabin roof, drawing his fingers in random patterns across Chris' skin as Chris shifts and laughs and kisses him until Vin is breathless and his palms curl over Chris' hipbones and the laughter turns into quiet sighs and gasps.

***

Sometimes Chris thinks it's an accident, this thing with Vin, if a man can fall into a relationship and call it an accident.

But if he fell, it was with his eyes wide open, and there's never been a moment he's regretted it, not even when it's dark and cold and his skin aches all over to feel Vin warm against him, and he rolls over in his sleep and wakes up because there's no one there and Vin is lying apart from him in town.

***

"This is a bad idea," Chris says, as Vin presses him back into the straw of the livery stables and licks a slow path from his collarbone to his navel.

"This is a really bad idea," he repeats and gasps when Vin bites him, none too gently, just above his hip, before kissing it softly to soothe the sting.

"Vin," he moans, and Vin rests his cheek against Chris' thigh and looks up, licking his lips slowly, his eyes dark and heavy-lidded.

"Let me guess. Bad idea?" he asks archly and nuzzles at the base of Chris' cock, tongue darting out to taste the hot salty skin. "Want me to stop?"

"Don't you dare," Chris groans, and Vin smiles and lowers his head to take Chris' cock into his mouth.

***

"You're an idiot," he says, and Vin grins, far too cheerful for a man with a hole in his shoulder and a puddle of his blood on the ground.

"Y'already knew that."

Chris' hands are shaking as he presses hard against Vin's shoulder and the coppery tang of blood makes his gorge rise and his stomach heave. He lifts his head and bellows again for Nathan, and when the answering shout comes he almost sobs with relief.

"M'fine," Vin murmurs and lifts a hand to tap against Chris' temple, leaving a small smear of blood that Chris won't notice until two days later when he finally stops long enough to bathe and sleep. "Stop thinkin' on it."

"Worry about you," Chris grunts. "Damn fool without the sense to get out of the way of a bullet."

"Wasn't in the way," Vin says, and the grin fades from his face until he's pale and serious and he plucks with his free hand at Chris' shirt. "You were."

And Chris can't respond because Nathan is there and his hands are steady as they move Chris' gently out of the way. Chris rises, staggers, and Buck slips a hand under his shoulder, and his eyes are kind and understanding when Chris turns away and vomits.

***

Chris steps out of the cabin into the strange half-light. He awoke to silence and stillness, rolled over to find the bed still warm and Vin gone.

It's an hour yet until dawn, but the falling snow lends an unnatural brightness to the world and he stops for a moment, the confusion of sleep still clouding his mind. Everything is white and frozen, and the only thing that seems real is Vin, sitting on the porch steps, wrapped in his old buffalo robe.

The wood creaks under Chris' feet and Vin turns his head. He looks at Chris steadily, and Chris is struck by something deep and absurd, as though there's a meaning and a symbolism in this moment that eludes him, just dancing out of reach, and if he could only find it, understand it, perhaps the world might change, and him with it.

And then Vin smiles and holds the robe open in invitation, and when Chris settles between Vin's legs and leans back against his chest, turning his head to press a thankful kiss against the scar on Vin's shoulder, he thinks that whatever it was, it doesn't matter, because the only thing that has any meaning in his life is this, Vin's warmth and his silence and his strength.


End file.
